


Fragment of the Mind

by WhoAreYouToday



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 12:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21476014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoAreYouToday/pseuds/WhoAreYouToday
Summary: When you (reader) are taken hostage by a kidnapper, you have no idea what is in store for you in the coming months. Forced into a life of submission, you realize you will have to do whatever necessary in order to escape.
Relationships: Kidnapper/Reader
Kudos: 4





	Fragment of the Mind

You were sleeping late at night when you were kidnapped from your sleep. You didn’t see your captor, but you woke to a warm embrace and musty breath. You barely had a change to look around when a cloth was pushed to your mouth, and, deep in somnolent desire, you fell unconscious once again.

***

You awake to shuffling feet and rusting cloth. The scent of wood permeates your nostrils—not the industrial type, but the natural, rough type with the aroma of bark. You blink your eyes fervently, attempting to fend off the lull of rest. You glance around you.

You're in a tent. 

The events of last night snap into your mind and you leap backwards, your back colliding against a firm wooden crate. You grip your shoulder blade, crying out in pain, before you notice that you're not wearing anything. Eyes wide, you grip the loose blanket tight to your skin, hair standing straight on your arms as your shoulder still burns.

"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" a voice cooed from the other side of the tent. Your head jerks upwards. There's a man sitting calmly at on another crate, simply staring at you. You pull up your blanket even tighter.

"Who—who the hell are you?" you stammer, pain now dissipating from your shoulder.

The man smirks. "I'm not at liberty to... _reveal that_ at this moment." He shifts, placing his right hand over his left. "But I know who _you_ are."

Your mouth opens and shuts as you try to form words that avoid your tongue. "Wh—wha—?"

"You're Emily Darria," the man says cooly, picking at his fingernail with a knife that had no business being as large as it was. "Captain of the Morrow Hill College Debate Team and National Champion."

You're stunned. "How—?" You collect your thoughts. "You... _fucking_ stalker!"

"Oh, now that's a tad bit harsh, don't you think?" the man said, raising an eyebrow. "I'd just call myself a.... _concerned observer_."

"_Fuck you!"_

Another eyebrow raise. "You're supposed to be an eloquent speaker. I was wrong."

You can do nothing but glare at the man. Red seeps into the corners of your eyes and seems to bleed into your retinas as your vision begins to tremble and shake with fervid intensity. 

"Return me to my home," you mutter through clenched teeth, "Or I _swear to God_ the authorities will have your head."

The man laughed, a funny, reedy laugh. "Out here?" He moved towards the entrance of the tent, brushing the flap aside. "I doubt it."

Through the glaring rays of sunlight you perceived a wall of stone with trees on either side. A forest. Mountains. You sank back against the crate, utterly defeated by the prospect of where you were.

"Deep wilderness," the man grinned, releasing the flap. "You're stuck here with me."

A wild thought entered your mind—you leapt at the man, not with the intent to hurt, but to _kill_—but a chain bound to your wrist held you back, slamming you back against the crate. The blanket fell off of your body, and you strained against the metal, fully naked. Your honor regained precedence, and you shrank back to the corner, desperately trying to cover up yourself.

The man smiled again. "Ah... yes. I _do _mean _stuck here_."

You looked around frantically as your pulse rose once again. The man moved towards you, and you willed him away; he continued to advance. With a single, hairy hand, he brushed it against your thigh; you shrank back at the cool touch, hair standing on end once more. 

"Beautiful," the man sighed. "The timelessness of youth."

"_Fuck. Off._"

The man looked up at you calmly. "No."

He reached across another crate, tossing to you what could best be described as a loose canvas bag.

"The fuck is this?" you asked, spitting at the man with each syllable.

"Your clothes," he replied stoically. "I suggest you put them on, unless you wish to remain _bare_."

Still glowering, you slipped the garment over your shoulders. It was rough and coarse, but it covered the front and back of your torso and hid the groin from view. It, however, did nothing to hold your pride together.

"Now, if you want to live," the man exclaimed, holding up his knife to the light, "You will be _obedient_. Is. That. Clear?"

You collected enough spit to lob it at him; it splattered on his arm, making him laugh.

"Not bad, not bad," he muttered. His eyes leveled. "My turn." 

You could barely blink before the knife lodged itself in the wooden crate, mere centimeters from embedding itself into your skull. You nearly screamed, but fear made the better of you, and you could only struggle to breathe and form words like a dumb man.

"Now," the man continued, reaching past you and collecting his weapon, "You will be _obedient. _You will refer to me as your master. Is that understood, _pet_?"

You snarl at him.

"Is. That. _CLEAR?"_ the man presses. He raises his knife.

You swallow. "Y—yes. _Master_."

He smiled. "Good pet, Emily. Good pet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First post on this site—gonna be fun! For all you guys out there, hope I do these characters justice; I'm a girl and never written guys before, so yeah, hope it works! Eek! Should be exciting!!


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